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A bright, bittersweet scent honoring the Japanese Deity of Love and Passion. Aizen-Myoo is one of the vidyarajas, the Shingon's Radiant Kings of Wisdom. Though Aizen-Myoo possesses the lust, grace and passion of both genders, he most often appears to his followers as male. His face is screwed into a fearsome demonic mask, but this is only the wrathful, fierce countenance he places over himself to guide and empower his children. Aizen-Myoo is the patron of prostitutes, of joyous, unbridled sexuality and of all forms of erotic love and is worshipped by all those in the sex industry, musicians, and - oddly - landlords. Yuzu, kaki, and mikan with cherry blossom and black tea. Bright, joyous, unbridled - these are perfect for Aizen-Myoo! Crisp, sharp, glorious yuzu - think peeling a grapefruit, tangy and vibrant, and smelling the pith and juice after you stick your thumb into it ... but even better - and a distinctly clear and softly sweetening tea note. Aizen-Myoo jumps off of my skin for the first few minutes, and as the citrus notes begin to recede - never fading away, mind you, the cherry blossom starts to emerge, as does the faintest tinge of campfire smoke. I want to bathe in this all summer long. God, this is beautiful! It's like a diamond, in that it has brilliance, depth, clarity, and that undeniable appeal you're powerless to resist.

A fast-acting, powerful scent used to overcome adversity through positive means. Attracts wealth, prestige, good health, and enhances others' opinions of you. Grants courage and steadfastness. Grapes. Immediately, I think grapes, herbs, and bundles of wildflowers laid on the ground. Not Jolly Rancher grape, but ripe, sweet red grape. Green herbs, not bitter in any sense of the word. There are no sharp edges to this scent, but it has such presence and distinction! There's an underlying similarity to Water of Notre Dame, perhaps in the aquatic nature of it. Unisex without being unfeminine - this would be very wearable for most anyone who didn't exclusively prefer "dry" scents.

A phenomenally powerful attractant. Sexual and commanding in the extreme. The Voodoo Blends all share a common herbal note, but it doesn't make any of them smell the same. Come to Me is not my favorite, but the soapy, herbal freshness of it seems to bring men running to me.

Gentle tea rose, lilac, Calla Lily, and Somalian Rose layered over golden Peruvian amber, Spanish moss, red sandalwood, rosewood, and myrrh, with the lightest touch of Mandarin. Heavy on the tea rose and lily for the first five minutes, Viola settles into pure warmth and gentle, lush, but faint rose with a hint of lilac. The amber, spanish moss, and rosewood make this absolutely round and full and warm, and that drop of mandarin gives Viola just enough sparkle to not be a woody floral scent. The sandalwood never makes it out in the open; I guess red sandalwood is a lower-key version of the sandalwood that came clamoring out in Velvet. Whatever the case, this works.

Named for the ambitious, vengeful poisoner Catherine deMedici, who used perfumes to perform her dark deeds. A sinful blend of orange blossom, rosemary and rose... allegedly the exact perfume she utilzed in her work. The rosemary jumps out first, with the rose close behind; within a couple of minutes they're perfectly balanced on my skin. The orange blossom takes a little longer to appear, and never really separates itself from the other two, as it seems to be the tie that binds and blends in this one. My very first perfume love was (you're not going to believe this) Estee Lauder's Private Collection. Brash, overbearing, chemical green in a bottle! Catherine is all the things that were good about Private Collection, like the crisp clarity of scent demonstrated in the rosemary component. It's also so much better it's hard to imagine, with the rose and the orange blossom creating a soft, feminine overlay. Fist of steel in a velvet glove, I believe the saying goes.

A light, pure scent: white musk, green tea, aloe and lemon. White musk, green tea, aloe, and lemon complement each other in an absolutely sparkling, clean and lively scent that makes me want to find a really good homemade lemonade recipe. It doesn't smell like lemonade, mind you, but is fresh and invigorating like a cold glass can be in the hottest part of the summer. Perfect for warm-weather wear or any time you need a perk-me-up!

A chilly, bright perfume: flurries of virgin snow, crisp winter wind and the faintest breath of night-blooming flowers. Limited Edition; December 2003. Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab has been outdoing themselves with the limited edition scents lately, and this is a sterling example! This is an airy, crisp, barely floral that is warm and soft, all the while making me picture the first snow and the sharp, clean scent that accompanies it. I know warm and snow don't sound like they go together, but let me assure you that they do! My all-time favorite. I wonder if Elizabeth would consider keeping some of the limited editions based on customer response ... I'd e-mail daily on this one.

From the Bewitching Brews collection: The essence of magickal enigmas and long-forgotten esoteric mysteries. Frankincense, rosemary, lavender, neroli, and verbena. Before my life was what it is now, I had a jar full of herbs and incense that a friend had given me for safekeeping, in what is a long and for this avenue, unrelated story. Arcana, though, transports me instantly to unscrewing the grey metal lid of that jar and breathing in the fading, drying scent of a beloved friend who I couldn't be with in spite of us both desperately needing each other at that time in our lives. Lavender and rosemary, softened by the creamy neroli and pale verbena, are almost edible in their lemon-herbal splendour here. Frankincense, which I usually find bitter and dry, gives this an airy but powerful top note that is somehow the support for all these bright, resonating herbs. No medicinal quality, as you might expect from lavender and rosemary, and an unexpected gentleness that's powerful while still seeming to echo from far, far away.

Oleander with black patchouli, ylang ylang, and neroli. Damn it. I just waxed poetic about this scent, then somehow managed not to submit the post. You'll have to suffer through the re-posted version, which is never as good as the first one. Prefaced with a reminder that I have funkified body chemistry in the areas of jasmine, ylang-ylang, and musks; so funkified, you may want to totally disregard my reviews of scents with these notes unless you're the same way. That stated, Tisiphone is fantastic, even on me. Creamy, biting neroli lifted by a heady white floral that can only be oleander, and ylang-ylang that sweetens and intensifies the southern flower-garden I keep sniffing on my arm. The black patchouli seems to be missing in action, as I never once get a sense of it. I am surprised ... well, amazed, if the truth be told ... at how contrary this is to my usual scent preferences, and how lovely it is. It's tough and bold, soft-skinned and curvy, brash and delicate all at the same time. I'll be ordering this one, which I'd put up there with Ophelia and Unseelie as atypical florals.

The rich scent of wild blackberry breezing over gentle rosy heather. Sniffing the bottle, I was worried about the possibility of one of those gel-cone-things on the back of my grandmother's toilet being the result, but her bathroom should smell so good. It's hard to write this review from the floor, where I'm busy twitching in complete ecstasy. For Easter last year, I bought potted heather plants and gave them to my then in-laws. My mother grew up in eastern Oklahoma, and we often go pick blackberries when we visit my grandmother. This is the perfect combinaton of fields of what that heather, along with baskets of not-too-ripe blackberries and a few of their crushed leaves, would smell like.

Lightning slashing the midnight skies over the endless reaches of the ocean. The electric tang of ozone, marine notes, and a drop of sharp rain. Clean, crisp, and yes, electric. Out of the bottle, I was afraid this was going to turn into one of those scents that people put in the middle of toilet paper rolls, but it's beautifully blended and doesn't get "perfume-y." Tangy salt air, flowing water, and oomph.

"And yet a restless, always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism," she interrupted, "but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection. It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you, nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world." Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a 21st century Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes. While Loviatar is the Goddess of Pain, Wanda govens Control. She is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch’s fantasies. Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather, sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle. Wanda goes on and warms up in exactly the order Beth provides in the description. Juicy purple-red merlot, then the distinct leather note that insinuates itself into the blend before you realize what it's doing ( and doing beautifully); there's no question that Wanda smells like sex underneath it all. How she manages to convey heated, flushed skin, I'll never know - but it's there. The floral scent in this is so faint it's almost not to be found; it's like the intensity of Wanda overshadows them (the myrtle's the only one that I can consistently find, and that's holding my wrist to my nose, breathing deeply in and out, and searching out a floral note). The dry down brought me an interesting combination of the faintest rose along with the wine and leather, but that was after having this on for quite a while. On me, the violet wasn't even discernable. While not familiar with Wanda in the literary sense - albeit not for long, now that my curiosity is piqued! - I can see her being about control from what this scent offers. There's no stopping this woman from getting what she wants, as she's intense, charismatic, and has no hesitation in using her womanly wiles to ensure her wishes are met. [/color][/font]</span>

Dark children conceived from the union of Fallen Angels and the Daughters of Men. According to lore, the angel Shemhazai led a group of his angels to earth to instruct mankind in the ways of piety and righteousness. After a time, the angels became prey to earthly desires and began to lust after the daughters of man, and thus they fell. They instructed their mortal mates in the arts of conjuration, summoning, necromancy and other magickal arts. The fruits of their union are the Nephilim: possessed of superhuman strength, cunning, and infinite capacity, and hunger for, sin. Venerated as heroes by some, vilified by most, the Nephilim eventually annihilated one another in a cataclysmic civil war instigated by the angel Gabriel as punishment for their transgressions. Holy frankincense and hyssop in union with earthy fig, defiled by black patchouli and vetiver, with a chaotic infusion of lavender, cardamom, tamarind, rosemary, oakmoss and cypress. Frankincense. No, fig. No, cypress. I can't decide which of these is foremost in the blend, which coincides with a description that includes "chaotic". There's a lot more fig in Nephilim than I expected, although it's highlighted by the opposing texture of the frankincense and a subtle herbal note that's a combination of hyssop and just a touch of rosemary. Nephilim is nice. It's not stellar in the category of Kali, the Kindly Ones, and Aizen-Myoo, but it is good. I feel a little unkind for saying that, but considering the company it keeps, I think it's accurate. For now, I'm keeping this at an Imp, and will save my purchasing possibilities for some of the others that are higher on my must-have list.

Wistful and vulnerable: lotus, water blossom ivy, stargazer lily and white rose. Ophelia is an aquatic floral that made my mother's eyes get that far-away, romantic, remembering look. I smell the wonderful flower moments in my life - wedding bouquets, the teacup filled with tiny flowers for my daughter's first day among us. A five-star rating from someone who despises almost all completely floral scents should give you a clue how amazing and true this one is; six out of five might be more appropriate.

A regal, commanding scent, but poignant. White cedarwood, blue sage and bay leaf. I grew up in the country, and our land was covered, like much of Oklahoma today, with red cedars. On the back side of the pond, just past the big rock dam that water trickled over and down into a crawdad hole, there was a huge cave created by overhanging cedar branches. My brother and I would crawl in oh-so-carefully to avoid getting the itchies, and play; I always loved to weave garlands out of flowers and grasses picked on the way to the hidey-hole. Lear is mostly cedar, although a drier version than the ones I grew up with, along with those broken and bent stems I tried so hard to make into a crown; barely green and leafy. Absolutely majestic, but in a quiet and reflective way. Dried down to a scent that was gentle with definite strength of will and character.

The Fair Lady, Winter Witch, White Maiden of the Storm. Szepasszony is a Hungarian demoness that appears as a stunningly beautiful woman with long, silver-white hair and a blinding white dress. She revels in storms, particularly when hail rains down on her. Water dripping down eaves into a puddle is an invitation for her to cause mischief: she uses the puddle as a magickal tool for casting her wicked spells. It is considered foolhardy to step into a circle of short grass ringed by taller grasses, as those mark the circles where the Fair Lady dances. A chilly, tempestuous whirlwind of clear, airy notes, slashing rain, and a thin undercurrent of white flowers. Daffodil, with a hint of dandelion, according to my nose, although white flowers are mentioned in the description. Absolutely the scent of sitting on your porch during a thunderstorm and smelling the battered flowers in your flowerbed give off their perfume; cold wind and rain that makes you snuggle deeper into your covers in early spring is definitely present, as well. Clear, yes, and aquatic - not harsh, though. Dry-down was softly vicious, and utterly wonderful.

Olive leaf, raspberry leaf, vetiver and cedarwood. With a complete opposite in the fruity greenery of raspberry leaf setting it off, cedarwood is the middle note of this scent that never ends up smelling like a cedar tree. Olive leaf has to be the crisp green note that makes me think of sweetest green grass - it has just a hint of astringency- and this clear, striking scent has just the tiniest drop of vetiver to anchor it, as it's all but unnoticeable here. These blend so beautifully, and so unexpectedly - and they mellow into a perfect blend that no longer has individual notes. Alecto is fascinating and inspiring, and there's no doubt I'll be ordering it.

Twin to Deimos and child of War, Phobos is the embodiment of terror and mortal fear. Chilling white musk, lemon verbena, white grapefruit and lemongrass. I love lemon, and Phobos is good for my lemon needs. Lemon verbena really dominates this scent, and it's a good way to enjoy lemon notes without smelling like some sort of cleaning fluid. In fact, the white grapefruit adds a very clear, barely tart but distinctly grapefruit sort of citrus tone - basically, all the good things about grapefruit - and the lemongrass makes it exotically grassy without tainting the clarity of the citrus. Cool, clear, and crisp - the white musk is really the bow around the package, tying it all together, rather than standing out on its own - perfect for warm weather wear.

The essence of faith, love and devotion: lilac, lemon, green tea, wisteria, osmanthus, white cedar, and Chinese musk. Lilac and wisteria sweeten and soften this scent, which is a tiny bit spicy - something I wasn't expecting. White cedar shines through, while green tea and lemon make this sparkle like the gaze of newlyweds looking at each other across the room, after a few minutes. I have no idea what osmanthus is or smells like, but I have a feeling it's what's given me the soft ... fluffy? ... feeling about the scent. Soft, with strength and sentiment.

A commanding, dominant oil that increases sexual magnetism, creates an intense and irresistible air of attraction, and amplifies potency. Sniffing this out of the bottle, I was sure I'd come across a strong, Southern, white floral. I put it on, and much to my surprise, the first whiff was of moderately chewed Bazooka bubble gum, with just a tang of cinammon underneath. Hmmm.... Five minutes later, the cinnamon is more predominant, with jasmine, herbs, wood, and smoke creating an abolutely fascinating aroma. 30 minutes later, the cinnamon is fading and a sugared bourbon vanilla is emerging, along with strengthening jasmine. It's not too strong, it's not too overwhelming, and it's oddly not as "pushy" as I expected. It is most assuredly a scent that embodies "getting others to do what you want while convincing them it was their idea all along."

A light, invigorating floral and citrus blend. Tuberose, lotus and jasmine with a hint of lime. Definite lime to this one, but it's the dark green rind of the lime, tart and zingy, along with the juice from the fresh half you're squeezing for the margaritas. It makes the lotus and jasmine absolute sparkle, with the tuberose still creamy and lush. This is a liquid smell, but not one of water. I'm not a white floral fan, but the lime changes this into something I not only want to wear, I can. Never over the top, no small children fall gagging at the white floral cloud around me, and I don't smell like a department store counter; there's no headache or sneezing when I wear these scents tied up by the lime. I think this would be a distinctive, pleasant way to wear a white floral if your chemistry usually contrasts violently with tuberose or jasmine, and it's so different from regular white florals that you should invest in an Imp if you typically despise those types of scents. Really in a league of its own.

Blissful Love - Romance - Passion - Grace - Beauty - Joy Good Luck in Love and Money - Kindness - Affection - Artistic Inspiration and Success - Harmony - Reconciliation - Sensuosity - Charm - Elegance - Delight <span style='color:black'><span style='font-size:10pt;line-height:100%'><span style='font-family:Georgia'>This scent wavers between green and pink for me. Of course, I wanted Venus to be pink, and this is full of grace and feminity. It's so green, though - sort of like Water of Notre Dame, but on a very light and flowing side of that scent. I picture Venus standing like a statue, wearing a pale green dress that flows around her and moves in the evening breeze. There's a tiny pink rosebud over her ear, barely visible, but the rose begins to bloom as she stands with a hint of a smile. For me, Venus is Tarot: the Empress and Water of Notre Dame combined. Fantastic combination.</span></span></span>

Arabian musk with two roses and a bevy of Middle Eastern and Indian spices. I always shunned rose scents before BPAL came into my life, but Beth does such an exquisite job using them that I find myself owning tons of oils with rose in them. Othello is no exception, but I love it because of the way it doesn't really smell like roses. Beth's going to kill me for this, but ... Othello is the ultimate version of my laundry fabric softener and dryer sheet. Mind you, I looked for years to find just the right one; after all, it's what you smell when you go to sleep on clean sheets and what you smell when you put your clothes on in the morning, so I was remarkably picky. Othello's crisp with such soft, clean lines - yes, there's roses, and yes, there's spice - but they combine into something that stays light and fresh without ever being "foofy" or soapy or overwhelmingly floral. It's not a superficial scent, either - it has a strength and depth of character, as well. I know this was designed as a "guy" scent, but I'll be wearing it all the time.

When I put a dab of Blood Orange on to try it, I thought I must have gotten close to the other scent I was wearing that day. I moved to the other arm, sniffed around to be sure I wasn't going to do it again, and dabbed again. I wasn't as careless the first time as I'd thought, and that's a wonderful thing. You see, I thought Blood Orange smelled like you'd trapped a good-smelling man inside a fabulous orange candy, and well ... that seemed a little odd. First on, there's a distinct earthen tone that fades away; sort of like the difference in a vegetable that hasn't been washed yet and the way it smells after it's been washed. Blood oranges are much sweeter than regular oranges - kind of like putting an orange candy and a fruit punch candy in your mouth at the same time. Beth's single note dries to just that, and like most of her other single notes, there's not a hint of artificiality. One sniff of this and you'll never be able to not tell the notes apart in Akuma. I think this is really the most distinctive of the three fruits in Akuma, and the loveliest. I wish I had bought more of the single note while they were still out, because I'd make bath products for my three-year old with it. I'd much rather smell this in her hair than the grape kid's conditioner we use; in fact, if Beth has bath and body products some day, this would be a wonderful start to the kids' line.

Venerable Victorian Tea Rose… twisted, blackened and emboldened with wickedness. I found this one to be lightly rosy, but in a crumbling, dried rose sort of way. Add in a sputtering fire from the alleyway; a bit of wet wood. Not too sweet, with an musty earth smell under it. Wore well throughout the day, but without turning into an overpowering or cloying tea rose scent. Nice!